


The New World

by Mime_Paradox



Series: Children of Rambaldi AU [3]
Category: Alias (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Gen, Olivia Reed can get it, Original Character(s), continuity porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29280708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mime_Paradox/pseuds/Mime_Paradox
Summary: As Sydney and Lauren attempt to deal with their new status quos, tensions rise as circumstances force them to work together to spy on a senator with potential connections to the Covenant.  Meanwhile, the Covenant attempts to determine the state of Sydney's memory, and Sark makes a friend.
Series: Children of Rambaldi AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1303259
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	The New World

**Chihauhua**

As Olivia’s taxi drove her from her hotel to the city’s urban center, she found herself paying attention to the landscape outside, much like she had been admonished to do as a child by her mother during long car rides. As she watched, she determined that she was glad business had brought her to this city: there was much to see and enjoy, and she wouldn't have known it, otherwise. Before she knew it, she’d arrived at the restaurant where she was to meet with Nisard.

She was in a good mood. Her day had begun in the afterglow of her night with the infamous Julian Sark, who, if he was half as good an asset as he was a lover, would be incredibly useful indeed. After her meeting with her Covenant colleague, she would be done for the day, and if everything went well, she’d be back home with plenty of time to unwind and relax before the day was done.

Olivia had first met Nisard three years ago, and the best thing she could say about him was that he was good at his job and was therefore tolerable. His personality was another matter altogether: for reasons she had never quite been able to identify, the man annoyed her, like a persistent leak whose source she couldn’t identify. “So how did it go with Mr. Sark?” he asked, after she’d sat down opposite him at his usual table. Only a fresh change of clothes and a shave indicated that he hadn't remained there since his meeting with Sark a day ago.

“You don’t need to worry about him. He’ll join us.” Even if Lazarey weren't a factor, behind his claims of independence was a desperate need to belong. If she couldn’t provide that, the Covenant would. 

“Do you think he was lying to us, about Lazarey?”, he said, between bites of his _molletes_.

“I doubt it," Olivia replied easily. "He doesn’t believe in the project, and he has nothing to gain by keeping that information from us.”

“He could still be working for Derevko.”

“Well, there’s that." Sark hadn't struck her as that good an actor, but given his provenance... "If so, all the more reason to keep him in our sights. We’ll just make sure he doesn’t learn anything he could take back to her or Sloane. Now, is there everything else you need, before I leave?”

“Yes, actually. I’d like your input on something,” Nisard answered, almost offhandedly—his gaze was squarely on his food. 

“Really?" Although Nisard did not, as far as she knew, reciprocate her distaste for him, he was also not the sort of person to take the initiative to ask her for feedback. "What on?” 

“Bristow. It seems my colleagues continue to not have any idea what to do with her.”

His frustration was understandable. For all that Bristow had been sold as a boon to the organization, she’d also proven to be a reliable source of headaches. Olivia still believed Bristow was Lazarey’s killer, lack of evidence be damned. And now she’d somehow managed to rebel and return to the C.I.A. fold. It was almost enough to make one believe that Madrczyk’s vaunted techniques were nothing more than very expensive snake oil. “Well, I think the words ‘barn door’ apply here. What exactly do they think can be done, at this point?” 

“More than you might think, actually. According to Alpha Source, there’s a distinct possibility that Bristow may not actually remember anything of value to give.”

Olivia allowed genuine surprise to show. “Really. I can’t imagine we’re that lucky.” Not that odd things didn’t happen in this business—sometimes even impossible things—but they were never nearly as neat as this.

“I can’t either. That said, the intel is reliable, and it makes little sense for this to be a stratagem of Bristow’s. She must know we’re prepared to carry out the promises we made.”

“Are we? I don’t see why we haven’t, then.” Not that it would be as easy as that, given the various pieces on the board and their various roles.But still.

If Nisard was miffed by the subtle jab at their organization, it did not show. “That’s the dilemma. We should keep our promises, yes, but what happens if we do, and she indeed doesn’t remember? Then we’ll just have exposed ourselves for no reason.” 

“Isn’t that a reason to suspect that she’s bluffing, after all? To put us in exactly this situation?”

Now it was Nisard's turn to be surprised—the idea was enough to draw his attention away from his meal, at least. “Now that you mention it… I’d be quite shocked if it were the case—but then, Bristow has surprised us before.”

“So what we need is confirmation then—that Bristow does or does not remember her time with us?”

“It seems so. Additionally, we need to determine if Madrczyk’s process indeed broke down, and if so, why. After all, we still have a half dozen other key agents who’ve undergone it. If nothing else, we need to make sure they won’t start betraying us. The question, of course, is how we go about doing that”

Olivia smiled. “Oh, I think I can come up with some ideas…”

\---

**Los Angeles**

The run was brisk and refreshing, and by the time she was done, Lauren Reed felt much calmer than when she had begun. 

Of course, things could still change. Eighteen hours were plenty to once again feel insecure about her new role. New workplace, new co-workers. As always, she needed time to adapt and to figure out who she was, in this brand-new stage. Likeable, for sure. Capable, definitely. And she could be those things, without a doubt. The real question was, could she be likeable and capable enough to charm the woman whose man she’d stolen? 

That was not the truth, though. Michael wasn’t Sydney Bristow’s to keep, and Lauren had not in any way stolen him. And yet, she was empathetic enough to understand how Bristow might feel that way—particularly given that she had, apparently, reappeared with no memory of the past two years. Time healed all wounds, but Bristow had, through an inexplicable twist of fate, been denied that time.

Lauren entered their home and made her way to the kitchen, where Michael sat eating his morning scrambled eggs. “Feeling better?” Michael asked, after she’d pecked him on the cheek. 

“Mostly,” Lauren answered honestly. “I really wish you could be there with me.”

“So do I. You’ll just have to be great without me,” he said, flashing what she called his reassurance smile. They’d argued about his decision to not rejoin the agency. She’d come to accept it, and she could even acknowledge how it would likely be easier to work with Bristow without Michael's constant presence, but still—she’d wanted him there.

“So, how many job interviews do you have lined up for today?” she asked, as she served herself a glass of iced lemon water. Michael had decided to quit his teaching job before lining up a new one. It had seemed a trivial matter when he was meant to join her, but now, not so much. Her husband was not at his best when he had too much time on his hands. 

“Just two. I’m really excited about the second one—the guy who called me to set things up told me that all I needed for the job was to not pee all over myself during the interview. I think I can manage that much—don’t you?”

“Oh, I’m sure that even if you don’t, one look at that face of yours, and they’ll hire you on the spot.” She moved behind him and kissed him on the cheek. “You’re handsome, you’re good with people, you have experience with stress…”

 _And you’re all mine_.

**\---**

The coffee and donuts were bad. The stories were worse.

It wasn’t that Sydney was unsympathetic; she understood exactly what it was like, to have lost time, to feel violated and not know how or why. It was how they largely seemed so _resigned_. Why weren’t they angry, or frustrated, or frantic? Is this what she had to look forward to?

Granted, she had not exactly come into these meetings with the highest of expectations. There were precisely two people with whom she felt like she could talk about her missing memories, and neither was likely to have been found at the UCLA meeting room where the support group Dixon had recommended met. Will Tippin, who had his own recent (not recent) memory woes, was off in Wisconsin, and it had been years since she’d last heard about Martin Shepard, the brainwashed SD-6 assassin whose past actions had haunted him even when he didn’t remember them. Instead, she had people who, while probably very nice, had said nothing she was interested in hearing. 

_This is boring. Want to get a drink, after?_ Said a hand-written note covertly passed onto her by the person to her right, a young brunette—Mira, Sydney believed—who in the two meetings they’d both attended had consistently managed to somehow look even more restless than Sydney did.

The note made her want to smile—one of the few things that had, in the past three weeks. _Sure_ , she wrote back. She didn’t really know Mira, nor did she have any idea why she’d be interested in talking, but then, she didn’t really know anyone, and she missed having friends badly. Her new life had to start somehow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're starting to deviate from canon quite a bit. Let me know what you think!


End file.
